


Good Morning

by Kahtya Sofia (KahtyaSofia)



Category: Generation Kill
Genre: M/M, One Shot, Porn Battle, Thigh Holster
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-02-03
Updated: 2011-02-03
Packaged: 2017-10-15 08:45:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/159103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KahtyaSofia/pseuds/Kahtya%20Sofia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nate awakes to find Brad wearing his thigh holster. Porn ensues.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Good Morning

The warm California sun spilled through the window. Nate squinted against the ray that streamed across his face. There was no fucking way he was sleeping in, now. He cracked one eye, surveying his surroundings.

A sound from the foot of the bed captured his attention. Nate rolled onto his back, out of the sun, and opened both eyes. What he saw made him reach reflexively between his own legs. His morning hard-on grew longer and thicker. He pressed the heel of his hand to the base of his cock. If he stroked himself too soon, it’d all be over.

Brad stood at the foot of the bed, back to Nate, looking over clothing hung in the closet. He was shirtless, to Nate’s delight. His MOPP suit trousers were low on his hips. Everything about Brad was long and lean. Nate’s mouth went dry with arousal. Brad’s shoulders were so fucking broad, balancing out his unusual height. His waist was narrow and trim, leading down to spare hips and a well formed ass. Brad had lost weight in Iraq. It let his trousers hang extra low; enough that Nate could see the entire expanse of his sprawling tattoo, down to where it ended just above the first swell of that gorgeous ass.

He was tempted to crawl across the bed on all fours and lick all along those clashing colors.

The best thing – the absolute best thing – about Brad’s current state of partial dress, was that goddam, mother-fucking thigh holster. It held Brad’s sidearm within easy reach of his long fingers, giving him a modern-day gunslinger appearance. It made him appear almost as dangerous as he really was.

Nate sucked a harsh breath in through his teeth and pressed his hand to the base of his straining cock.

“I can hear you back there, Lieutenant,” Brad said in a low voice.

“Just admiring the view,” Nate replied, voice still rough with sleep.

“Mmm.”

Brad placed his hands on his hips and shifted his weight to one leg; the one bearing the thigh holster. The lower strap was snug around Brad’s thigh, several inches above his knee. The black nylon webbing broke up the pattern of the woodland camouflage. The upper strap was wrapped lovingly around Brad’s upper thigh, calling attention to, and enhancing, the lower curve of Brad’s ass.

Nate needed to do something about his straining erection.

He rose to his knees and crawled off the end of the bed, coming to stand behind Brad. Nate could feel the heat rolling off Brad’s bare skin. He leaned in and pressed his own chest to Brad’s naked back.

“You’re doing slightly more than admiring the view there, sir.” Brad’s voice rumbled deep inside of him, and vibrated through to Nate’s torso.

“Doing a little recon on the AO,” Nate murmured against Brad’s shoulder, running his palms up the long, smooth muscles of his back.

Nate shifted until he could feel Brad’s thigh holster pressing into his own leg. He ground his cock into Brad’s hip, moaning into his shoulder at the feel of the pressure and friction. Nate reached both hands around Brad’s waist. He opened what fastenings he could and shoved aside fabric when he couldn’t, until he had Brad’s cock in his hand.

“Fuck, LT,” Brad growled. “That’s nice.”

Nate pressed his left palm to Brad’s hard, defined abs. He wrapped his right hand around the base of Brad’s erection and stroked upward, slowly, toward the tip. He twisted his wrist over the head, smearing Brad’s pre-come. When he stroked back down to the base, Nate reached further down and cradled Brad’s balls.

“You’re gonna make me come, doing that,” Brad said, voice raw with lust. He tipped his head backward toward Nate’s, eyes closed.

Nate moved his hand back to Brad’s cock and stroked him. He moved his hand up and down Brad’s length, squeezing hard at the head just to hear Brad’s torn-up moans. Nate held him steady with the hand on his belly, and rubbed his own cock against Brad’s hip.

He jacked Brad, wanting to make him come. At the same time, he thrust himself over and over against Brad’s hip, feeling the rough scratch and scrape of the thigh holster on his own sensitized skin.

Nate wasn’t sure what would make him come first: Brad’s lewd sounds, the press and rub of his cock against Brad’s body, or the feel of the thigh holster against his own leg.

He bit down on Brad’s shoulder.

“Fuck, I’m coming,” Brad whispered, a violent shudder running through his tall frame.

Nate pressed his hips one last time into Brad’s hip, savoring the feel of the thigh holster scratching his leg raw. He came with a strangled cry, biting Brad’s shoulder.

“Nate … Nate … hey, Nate.”

Nate jolted awake. Mike was knelt over him, shaking his shoulder. He sat up abruptly, gasping.

“I’m sorry to have to wake you, but it’s your watch. You got a solid four hours. I gotta get a few before I start shooting at shadows.” Mike looked chagrined at having to wake him, but he also looked fucking exhausted.

Nate was grateful for the darkness that hid both his flushed face and the erection that was damn near punching its way through his utilities.

“No, you’re right to wake me,” Nate said, hearing his own voice as if from a distance. “You need to sleep, too. I’m good, Mike. I’m good.”

Mike looked as if to rise, but stayed down on his knee. He didn’t look at Nate. “You know, LT, there’s nuthin’ in any officer’s handbook that says a good officer doesn’t avail himself of a combat jack.”

Nate stared at Mike, wide eyed and frozen in place. “I fuckin’ know that, Gunny. What’s your point?”

He hadn’t meant to snap like that.

“Whatever dream it is you keep dreamin’ - on the rare occasion you sleep - that has you makin’ all those sounds-“ Mike still hadn’t looked at him. “There’s no shame in rubbin’ one out if it’ll help you sleep more peaceful.”

Nate was more horrified than humiliated. “I’m not loud, am I?”

Mike chuckled. “Nah, you’re pretty quiet. Just … don’t let that shit back up. You got enough crap stressin’ you out.”

“Yes, mother,” Nate said derisively. At least this conversation had killed his hard-on.

Mike gave him a hand out of his grave, then turned to head over to his own. He turned back suddenly. “Oh, if you need to talk about anything or bounce some ideas, Colbert’s got this watch, too. Call him if you need him.”

Nate nodded once.

Fuck. Like having a late night conversation in the dark with _Brad_ was going to help with Nate’s peace of mind.


End file.
